


Purr

by cincoflex



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Consensual Kink, F/M, Learning the Ropes, S&M, Spanking, mentors/mentees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 05:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15066599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincoflex/pseuds/cincoflex
Summary: When an old friend dies, Tony finds himself caught up in a dark past.





	Purr

Purr

When Pepper got the call and heard the news, she passed it to Tony, interrupting his three o’clock meeting with the Air Force design team; he took her page and stepped out into the hall as she quietly told him what she knew.

He returned and called the meeting short; most of the schematics for the new space shuttle had already been hammered out, and the engineers were glad to get out early to beat the traffic. Tony shook hands and patted a few backs, slightly distracted. Rhodey asked what was wrong; he knew enough about Tony’s expressions to pick up that the call hadn’t been good news.

“Ian died.”

Rhodey looked startled at this, eyes widening. “Ian O’Hara?”

Tony nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Some sort of aneurysm; Pepper’s getting the details now.”

Rhodey stacked up the papers from the table, as much to find something for his hands to do as anything else. “Shit. I hadn’t thought about him in years. Were you guys in touch?”

Tony gave a shrug. “Few times a year.”

“Shit,” Rhodey muttered again. “Ian. Man, out of the three of us, I thought he’d be the one to outlive you and me. Was he married?”

Tony took the papers and shoved them carelessly into his briefcase, his stare off in the distance. “Yeah. About six years now. Naomi.”

The name instantly brought to mind the slender woman with the hip-length blonde hair. Tony snapped the locks on the case, and sighed. “Was not planning on a funeral for next week, but . . .”

“Yeah,” Rhodey agreed quietly. “I know what you mean. Let me know when it is, okay?”

Picking up the briefcase, Tony nodded.

 

*** *** ***

The service was sparsely attended and private; a simple church ceremony for the sterling silver urn. Tony and Pepper took a back pew; he’d told her she didn’t have to attend, but she was there anyway, looking somber in a grey suit with black piping on it. 

Tony was grateful. Pepper had met Ian a few times and he’d been one of the few friends of his that she’d genuinely liked. Ian had been a lanky man with a shock of blonde white hair and a soft Irish lilt to his voice. He’d been at MIT with Tony and peerless in prosthetic engineering in his time, eventually shifting into medicine to better integrate his fields of interest.

Ian had been one of the few people who could hold his own in conversations with Tony, and one of the few who could make him laugh as well. He and his wife made it a point to see Tony at least twice a year when they were on the coast; the last time had been nearly four months earlier, and Tony remembered the dinner.

He also remembered _after_ the dinner, when Pepper had left and it was simply Ian, Naomi and himself with glasses of sherry in the glow of the firelight, the three of them aware of another bond that held them together.

Tony looked to the front pew where Naomi sat, her long hair in a gleaming chignon under the black netting, and his heart ached for her. He shifted his gaze into a sidelong glance at Pepper, warmed to see she was looking at him with compassion. He took her hand and held it for a moment, feeling her gentle squeeze returned.

*** *** ***

The gathering back at the house was even smaller, with only a handful of people chatting quietly in the kitchen. Tony took one of the drinks from the side table and moved out to the back yard, sipping it slowly and looking out over the landscaping with an absent gaze. After a while, he felt a presence moving in behind him and he spoke without turning around. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m lost,” Naomi murmured with quiet honesty. “It’s just sinking in now, but in truth . . .”

Tony half-turned to look at her. Naomi was several inches shorter than he was, and he studied her pale face for a moment. “Do you _need_ me?”

She hesitated, a grateful flicker in her green eyes. Then with formality, Naomi dropped her gaze and briefly crossed her hands behind her back. “I . . . I might. Not right away, but . . .”

“I understand,” Tony murmured, and took another sip of his drink. “When you do, call me, and I’ll . . . make arrangements.”

“Yes,” Naomi murmured with a hint of relief. “Thank you, M-m-m--um, Tony.”

He managed a soft smile at her, and reached out a hand, knuckles up; Naomi glanced around quickly, and took it, dropping a light, lingering kiss on the back of it before straightening up.

Tony gave a grave nod, then slipped his arm around her gently and hugged her. “Good girl. Come on, let’s see if Rhodey’s here yet.”

Pepper had looked up through the bay window in time to see the two of them on the back deck. She had begun to look away when she caught the odd little gesture between Tony and Naomi O’Hara. It seemed . . . out of place, and Pepper made a mental note to ask Tony about it later, maybe on the jet back to California. 

She spoke quietly with some of the other guests, and kept an eye on Tony, but he nursed the single drink for most of the afternoon, and when it was time to go, he hugged the widow and whispered gently to her. She clung to him, and Tony wore traces of her perfume for a while. 

Back in the jet, he turned to Pepper, his voice low. “If Naomi calls, put her through— _any_ time, day or night.”

Startled, Pepper nodded. She settled in across from him at the fold down table and pulled out her laptop. As Pepper waited for it to boot up, she spoke quietly. “Why did she kiss your knuckles?”

Tony’s glance was quick, almost furtive. “What?”

“Out in the backyard. She kissed your hand. Looked like something out of The Godfather,” Pepper tried to joke.

It fell a little flat, and Tony folded his hands across his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. “It was . . . a gesture of respect. Nothing to get jealous of.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m not _jealous_ ,” Pepper shot back, a trifle quickly.

Tony managed a tired smirk, eyes closing. “Oh I don’t know—spying on me now, Potts?”

There was a tense little pause.

“It is my _job_ ,” Pepper replied quietly, “To keep an eye on you. Clearly this is none of my business—”

“—Yeah,” Tony broke in firmly. “It isn’t. I’m indebted to you, Pepper for all that you do, but this is between myself, Ian, and Naomi.”

The rest of the trip passed in silence.

*** *** ***

Things were strained for a day, but gradually it wore away. Pepper found flowers on her desk and a carelessly written thank-you note in Tony’s familiar scrawl: _Thanks for being there— I appreciated it._

It was hard to stay annoyed with a bouquet of beautiful Narcissus blooming on her desk, and Pepper took it in good grace. It was easier to forgive Tony these days; he didn’t have as many vices to despair over. They were back on familiar footing by Tuesday, and a week later, his tease about her latest pair of Astrabellas had her blushing before the board meeting.

“You’re trying to give Velanski a heart attack; admit it, Potts,” came his husky chide. “You _know_ he’s got a foot fetish. I’m surprised he doesn’t drool every time you saunter past his office door.”

“Mr. Velanski has always been a perfect gentleman,” Pepper shot back, amused and exasperated. “Unlike _some_ people.”

“Hey, at least _I’m_ willing to tell you those sexy spikes make me think naughty things,” Tony countered with a grin.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “You’re making me self-conscious; should I go buy some army boots?”

“Over my dead—” At that moment the phone on his desk rang; Tony grabbed it, holding a finger up to stop Pepper from walking away. “Stark here.”

His entire body language shifted; Pepper took in a breath at how he straightened up and his expression quickly tightened. “Naomi. Asthore; what’s wrong?”

Tony listened intently for a long moment, his entire concentration focused on the muffled words pouring into his ear. Feeling awkward, Pepper tried to step away, but Tony caught her movement and shook his head. 

He spoke into the phone. “No.” The word was firm and strong. “No, I’ll book one of the jets. You’re to come to me. Yes. Yes. Good girl. Tonight.”

Tony hung up, blinking a little, and turned his glance back to Pepper. She could see the rapid reprocessing of his thoughts, and she took a step forward. “Is everything all right?”

“I’ll be having a guest for dinner. Looks like you can take an early night, Potts—more time for shoe shopping,” he teased, but it was almost absent-minded, and she felt a sudden, unwelcome pang of jealousy.

It wasn’t hard to figure out who the guest was, and the fact that she, Pepper, hadn’t been invited—

_Stop,_ she chided herself. _They were Tony’s friends, not yours. Besides, it’s simply dinner._

Pepper nodded. “Will . . . Mrs. O’Hara need a car to meet her?”

Tony shook his head, his expression suddenly mild. “No, I’ll pick her up myself.”

*** *** ***

He and Happy picked her up in the limo; Tony anticipated that Naomi would be stressed and grateful for the privacy that the tinted glass would provide. When they climbed into the back, her small hands were shaking, and he took one, letting his thumb stroke the tendons along her wrist. “Easy, Asthore, easy,” Tony soothed her.

Naomi took in a deep breath. She was in black silk slacks, with a black crocheted top, and the darkness of the outfit set off her porcelain skin and blonde hair. Closing her eyes, she spoke, her words shaky. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just—I was cleaning things out, and I found, I found one of the old Wartenburgs. It just brought back _so_ many memories . . .”

“Shhh,” Tony murmured, picturing the glittering wheel in his mind. Ian always bought the best when it came to toys. “It’s all right. You did the _right_ thing in calling me.”

Naomi sighed, visibly relaxing now, her breathing more even. “Thank you, Master Tony. I . . . appreciate this.”

“Shhhh,” he repeated, gently. “We’ll have dinner, and then we’ll . . . take care of things.”

“Yes,” Naomi repeated in a soft, soothed voice. “Thank you.”

They reached the house in forty minutes; Tony dismissed Happy with instructions to return by eight o’clock the next morning. Once the limo had moved around the circular drive and was heading back out to the highway, Tony kept his gaze on the vehicle until it was out of sight. When it was, he turned to Naomi, his dark gaze compassionate.

“Undress,” he told her quietly, “ _here,_ ” and picked up her suitcase. He turned for the house, not bothering to watch her follow his command.

Inside, he spoke in a low voice. “Jarvis, I require a full blackout this evening, with only outside and security perimeter monitoring online.” With a dry swallow, Tony added, “Revoke Pepper’s clearance for this evening, and send her calls to voice mail.”

“Yes sir,” Jarvis replied.

*** *** ***

_It is good,_ Tony admitted in sullen delight. _Damn it. It shouldn’t have been, but it was._ He wiped his mouth and pushed away the remains of the grilled fish on the formal dining table. Naomi sat at his feet, her long hair cascading down her bare shoulders as she finished from her plate on the floor.

Tony swallowed the last of his wine, and poured another glass. He picked it up and rose. “Follow me, Asthore.”

She did, her barefoot steps quiet behind him on the gold marble floor. They moved to the living room, and Tony looked at the fireplace. “Low blaze, track lighting.” 

When the setting was what he wanted, Tony turned to look at Naomi, gratified to see how calm she was, standing there naked and quiet. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, Master Tony,” she murmured, standing with her wrists clasped behind her, eyes down. The glow of the fire played over her breasts, and gave a gleam to her skin.

He gave her a brief smile, and set his glass of wine on the coffee table, then circled around her, laying warm hands on her bare shoulders. Leaning in, Tony whispered formally, “You did _right_ in coming to me, Asthoreen, and I’m pleased. Your pain would distress Ian. Let me take it from you and replace it with something else tonight. Are you willing to let me do that?”

“Yes,” she blurted, “Please! But—” Naomi blinked a little and dared to meet Tony’s eyes over her shoulder. He nodded, giving her wordless permission to continue, and she did. “What about your _own_ needs? Your own . . . _one_?”

Tony gave a low, frustrated laugh, leaning over her short shoulder and brushing his cheek against hers. “This isn’t about me, Naomi. I haven’t . . . I don’t, Play anymore. You _know_ that. Not unless it’s with you and--and Ian.”

“Oh. I thought _finally_ . . . when I saw her with you at the funeral?” Naomi asked in sweet confusion.

Tony came around and lifted her chin in one hand, his eyes with a modicum of pain and patience. “No. It’s . . . complicated. She’s not yet in touch with what we both need, and I refuse to push. Enough about Pepper—this is about _you_ tonight, Asthore,” he purred in her ear. 

The old rush came back; a hard dark wall of pleasure tingling through him, and Tony paused to regain a bit of composure. Naomi was breathing shallowly now, already beginning to slip into her zone, her pupils wide.

He gave a gusty sigh. “You have too much freedom, and I’m going to fix that right _now_.”

With care, Tony brought out the brushed aluminum attaché case from secret compartment behind the fireplace and set it on the coffeetable. He opened it slowly, letting the ‘snick’ of the popping locks echo in the room. Naomi shivered at the sound, and he himself felt another throb of pleasure.

Memories flitted through his mind, mingling with fantasies, all of them stronger because of the little audible cue. Tony looked down into the case, and reached in, pulling out a pair of pale leather-wrapped handcuffs linked by a short section of glittering chain. The chain clinked a little when he turned to Naomi, and smiled. “You need . . . _correction_ , Asthoreen. You need to remember your place.”

“Yessss, Master Tony,” Naomi sighed quietly.

*** *** ***

Pepper had trouble distracting herself. She knew she should be grateful for the night off; God knew they didn’t come often when Tony Stark was your boss. Still, the thought of Naomi O’Hara, recently widowed and highly . . . vulnerable, alone with Tony bothered her.

She wanted to be objective, or at the very least, compassionate. Pepper knew how genuine the friendship was; she’d had dinner with the O’Hara’s and understood how much Ian and Naomi’s friendship meant to Tony. The four of them had gotten along nicely—certainly better than pairings with some of Tony’s other friends, despite the odd remark now and then. Pepper had _liked_ Ian and Naomi.

_It would be easier if Naomi wasn’t so pretty,_ Pepper glumly admitted as she waited for her toenails to dry. She’d changed them from her usual French manicure to a frosted pink, all the better to emphasize her matching lipstick, fresh from Sephora 

Pepper sighed. She didn’t want to think about the J-word, although she was honest enough to acknowledge it was there. Tony had flirted with Naomi before, sure, and in front of Ian, but they _both_ seemed to adore it, and neither one of them minded. When it came right down to it, Ian had flirted with _her_ as well, and Pepper remembered some of his comments with pleasure. 

_“You’d be so good for Tony.”_ And, _“When is he going to talk you into a few things, Pepper?”_

Pepper studied her toes again and tried not to think of how Tony might be comforting Naomi O’Hara. It was damned near impossible, and with a frustrated little oath, she bent to blow on her toenails, ignoring the late hour on the bedside clock. When all ten were dried, she brushed her teeth, took a Sominex and climbed into bed, determined to rest.

It was a long, long time before she finally dropped off.

 

*** *** ***

She got up an hour before her usual time, and frittered it away listening to the morning DJs and lingering over her toast. Even then, traffic was light, and when she pulled up to the mansion, Pepper felt a little awkward at arriving at seven-thirty. She carefully trotted up the steps to the door and pressed her palm into the scanner.

Nothing happened. Pepper tried again, but the familiar green flare didn’t happen, and she looked at it carefully before speaking into the little grille over it. “Jarvis? It’s me. The entry scanner seems to be . . . not working.”

There was silence. Pepper looked up at the glass windows and narrowed her eyes, feeling alarmed and annoyed to equal degrees. She and Tony had an understanding; to whit: he never EVER locked her out. Since there was power on along the walkway lighting, the issue wasn’t electrical. 

Pepper pulled out her phone, reluctantly willing to give him the tiniest benefit of the doubt; the first ring echoed, and she gritted her teeth, waiting for the loop to voicemail when it suddenly picked up.

“Hey. Let me get the gate open.”

Tony’s voice. Perfectly calm, not even sleepy. Pepper checked the time again doubtfully. Still seven-thirty. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the power surged and the light on the scanner came on. She hesitated a moment, then walked in, steeling herself.

He was standing at the big windows overlooking the Pacific, what looked like a Bloody Mary in one hand, tie still undone, his dark hair still slightly damp from his shower. Pepper crossed the room slowly, looking around. She couldn’t help it; she didn’t like it about herself and forced her attention back to the man at the window.

Tony was relaxed. The set of his shoulders and gentle smile on his face startled her, and she gave him a tentative smile in return. He saluted her with the glass. “Enjoy your night off?”

“Um,” she gave a shrug, not willing to admit her big extravagance was changing her polish. Pepper didn’t have to; Tony glanced down and gave a low whistle.

“Pink. I like pink. That makes you kissable at _both_ ends,” he pointed out, clearly proud of the observation. Pepper laughed a little, relieved at his familiar flirtatious banter. She would have replied, but the sound of feet made her look over; descending the stairs, Naomi O’Hara came around the curve, smiling.

“Good morning,” she called cheerfully. 

Pepper froze, her expression caught between surprise and disappointment. Tony gave her a brief glance, and took a big sip of his glass before turning to the approaching woman. Naomi wore a pantsuit of dark gray pinstripe linen, with a huge brooch of twisted gold on her lapel. She joined them, and looked beyond Tony and Pepper to the ocean. “It’s such a lovely view.”

“One of the best,” Tony lightly replied, not shifting his glance from the horizon.

He took Pepper by the elbow, bringing her along as they both walked Naomi down to the car. Happy was already there and Tony waved for him to stay behind the wheel as he himself opened the door and moved to load up the suitcase. 

Naomi seemed blithely unaware of Pepper’s brittle silence and spoke softly. “I hope you and Tony . . . well, both Ian and I still hope. He’s such a lonely man without you.”

“Oh he seems to do just fine,” Pepper replied dryly. Naomi looked amused.

Tony came back, and in a gentle gesture, pulled Naomi close and reverently kissed her forehead. “I’m never more than a phone call away, Asthore; you know that.”

“Thank you, Master,” she replied. Pepper’s eyebrows went up, but before she could say or do anything, Naomi O’Hara slipped a hand up and around Pepper’s neck and pulled her down--

\--into a deep, sweet, kiss. It was such a surprising and sensual move that Pepper was swept up in it for a few seconds. Right as she began to protest, Naomi released her and gave a happy sigh. She climbed into the limo and closed the door.

Tony gave a soft little moan. “Mmmmmo-kay. Yeaaaah. _That’s_ going in the bedtime memory book.”

“Oh my God, she . . . she _kissed_ me!” Pepper protested as the limo began to pull away. “She just—“ Turning to register her confusion, Pepper caught Tony’s bemused and slightly delighted smirk. “Oh _stop_ it!”

“Stop what? _You_ were the one she laid a lip lock on, Potts,” he pointed out with a growing grin. “I had no idea you hopped the fence. Gives a man _ideas_ , you know.”

“You _always_ have ideas,” she snapped back, unsettled and not amused.

Tony gave an expansive shrug and smirked. “Yeah, but I’m not the one with two shades of lipstick on my face. For once.”

Pepper turned and stalked back into the house, unable to think of the perfect, scathing reply to that.

 

*** *** ***

Tony felt a hell of a lot better than he had in a long time. True, there would need to be serious damage control with Pepper; despite her denials, she was the jealous type. Tony was aware of that now, and it both pleased and frustrated him these days. But he knew better than to say a word about Naomi’s visit; Pepper would never believe the truth about not sleeping with her.

So he puttered in the garage until Happy came back and reported that Mrs. O’Hara had been safely deposited at the private airport, and then Tony and Pepper stiffly got into the limo and rode out to the jet engine testing facility in Santa Irma. The chill in the car was palpable, and Tony did his best to ignore it, focusing on Pepper’s legs as she sat in the seat across from him, typing on her laptop.

Tony rested an elbow on the door handle. “Come on, Ms. Potts—I know you’re _dying_ to lay into me. Let’s have it.”

The quiet stretched out for a mile or two more.

Then--

“Why did she call you ‘master?” came her question, so low he wondered if it had actually been asked aloud. 

Tony drew a breath and leaned back against the seat. “Because with her, I _am_. Naomi is . . . how do I put this? Submissive.”

Pepper didn’t look up from her typing, but her speed increased, fingers dancing more swiftly. “Oh?” came her nonchalant response.

“Oh.” Tony echoed back, feeling a little irritated now. This wasn’t the reply he’d expected from Pepper, and he leaned forward. “Yes. Has been for years, actually.”

“I see.”

He could tell that she couldn’t; that Pepper was dismissing it all as just another flavor of sex. Suddenly tired of the game, Tony reached forward and roughly pushed the laptop closed, nearly snapping it on her fingers. Startled, Pepper gripped the sides of the computer and shot him a wary look. “Tony—”

“ _Listen_ to me. Naomi O’Hara has just lost the _one_ person in the entire world she loved, trusted and served. She needed someone to take charge of her for an evening and give her a reprieve from her grief, and although I haven’t done it in a while, I did just _that_. I let her lick my hands for an hour, then I tied her up, and gently flogged her until she had an orgasm. End. Of. Story.”

Tony held his breath as he watched Pepper’s face. She was working on keeping it as impassive as possible, but the little frantic tic of her pulse along her throat, and the flicker of her lashes gave away her shock. Tired, he lifted his bearded chin and turned his gaze up to the ceiling of the limo, waiting as the stillness hung between them for a while longer.

He gave a sigh. “And this morning Naomi kissed you because she wanted to _thank_ you, Pepper, for being kind enough to . . . let her have time with me.”

“It’s . . . none of my _business_ what you do with Naomi O’Hara,” Pepper managed stiffly, still not meeting his eyes.

Tony laughed without humor. “Yeah, I think I said that before, but frankly I’m not going to go through a second Ice Age with you about this. It’s moot point anyway—Naomi and Ian have a circle of friends who can take care of her needs from now on, and as for me, I’m . . .”

The limo slowed to a stop. Tony didn’t bother finishing his sentence, and quickly climbed out, not looking back, but trusting Pepper to follow him as he began to move towards the facility.

*** *** ***

She kept her eyes on his back.

The Engine Test Facility was a series of cavernous underground rooms the size of hangars. Several of them were open work bays where engineers clustered like ants around various projects. Tony strode from section to section, taking in everything in each one with his usual laser intensity. 

Pepper tried to push down her astonishment long enough to take notes as Tony fired comments over his shoulder at her for dictation. She managed to transcribe the better part of his departmental commentary as he moved from the main floor through a series of doors, the head engineer flanking him. Pepper strode along to follow, glad of the distraction of work as she tried to make sense of Tony’s comments in the limo.

It didn’t factor out. Tony? Into bondage and discipline? He’d always been a bit of a wild man at times, a risk-taker, yes. She’d watched him sweep countless women to bed, occasionally a pair of them, but always, only for . . . straight sex.

Well, as straight as sex with Tony Stark normally got. There were the occasional scarves or hand cuffs, and a vibrator or two but nothing out of the ordinary beyond that. Pepper had seen the maids clean up often enough to know that Howard and Maria’s son had a fairly healthy and lively imagination when it came to matters of recreational copulation. 

None of the women she’d ever shuttled out of the mansion the morning after had ever looked . . . beaten, or tortured. And yes, while a few of them had tried to come on to _her_ , Pepper was aware that it was usually just a ploy to stay close to her boss.

After all, she herself wasn’t blind to Tony’s magnetism; just wary of it.

Still, there was no denying that something had happened between Tony and Naomi O’Hara, and further, that whatever it was hadn’t been sex the way Tony usually had it.

Pepper was still concentrating on opening a new file for the notes as she followed Tony and the engineers into the wind tunnel. They all stepped out into the long room, and she shifted to get better lighting on the BlackBerry in her hands, not looking up.

That was a mistake. The sudden roar of the wall fan at the other end rose up, and the gust of breeze caught her by surprise; Pepper staggered against it, tottering on her heels. By sheer will she managed to keep hold of the PDA, but as the roar increased and her skirt whipped higher on her thighs, she began to tumble.

Arms caught her; pulled her in close against the mad rush of air through the room, and Pepper ducked her head, furious, frightened and out of breath in the maelstrom whirling around them. If it hadn’t been for the secure grip around her . . . 

The fans died down, and she risked looking up. The lead engineer was against the far wall, glasses smashed, nursing a bleeding nose; he looked dazed.

Tony had her in his arms. His hair looked a bizarre mess, but what caught her attention was the long thin split on his bottom lip, oozing a single drop of blood. His eyes, dark and intense scanned her face. “You okay?”

Pepper took quick stock of herself; nothing had hit her, she hadn’t fallen, thanks to—“I’m fine. You’re bleeding.”

As she reached to touch his lip, Pepper felt Tony’s hands shift from her hips to slowly brush her skirt down from where it was bunched at her waist, and to his credit, he did it without taking his eyes off hers. “Hey, hey, no panty-flashing the shortly-to-be-fired technicians.”

“What happened?” she blushed, finger dabbing his blood. Tony swiftly bent his head and licked-- _suckled_ her finger, his hot, wet tongue sliding around it as lasciviously as a cat’s.

Pepper shivered, giving a small, helpless moan.

Then he pulled back as people began dashing into the room, and reluctantly let her go, moving to rub her upper arms in a stolidly comforting gesture.

“Clearly _some_ one was running a simulation without properly logging it, and we walked in at the wrong time. I want a _thorough_ review of all of this facility’s scheduled tests and personnel on my desk by the end of the day.” His voice was loud, hard and matter-of-fact, and if it hadn’t been for the wetness of her finger, Pepper might have thought she imagined his little sensual caress.

*** *** ***

A week passed; Tony made it a point to keep himself busy and avoid any private time with Pepper, going so far as to have the limo partition rolled down for most of the rides and inviting Rhodey over in the evenings. Pepper seemed to appreciate the safety net, and began to relax again, avoiding anything more personal herself.

She brought him papers to sign, and reminded him about his schedule, his stocks, his travel plans. Tony signed, attended, invested and flew, all according to the agenda Pepper laid out for him, making sure to keep his teasing mild.

For his own part, Tony fought the urge to indulge in his current favorite fantasy too often as he watched the delectable lines of Pepper’s legs, and the sweet swing of her hips. The memory of being pressed up against her, feeling all those tantalizing swells and hollows joined to his—

Oh yes. And then that crazy, _stupid_ moment with her finger. God, indulging in a few quick licks, because really it wasn’t the blood, but the sight of her scared, big blue eyes that had urged him on. 

The closeness, the scent of her.

He might have managed to get back on even footing if the package hadn’t arrived just as he and Pepper were coming in from a long evening at the Sotheby’s auction. For a few hundred thousand dollars Tony had picked up a couple of nice knickknacks for the main lobby of SI. While he and Pepper argued about placement and insurance for the sculptures, the Fed Ex man stood with a clipboard.

“For Mr. Stark? Why didn’t you leave it at the office?” Pepper chided the man, taking the clipboard and signing off quickly. Tony took the package and hefted it; not light by any means. When he caught the return address label, things became immediately clear, and Tony tucked the big box under one arm, feeling a flush rise through him.

He hurried up to the living room, wanting to put it away, but Pepper followed him up, clearly not done with her arguments about the best way to display the Donald Judd piece. Tony hesitated, then deliberately set the box down and moved to the bar, pouring himself a few fingers of Slivovitz. “You don’t think we can shift the main lobby around and have the thing in the center?”

“Mr. Stark, you forked over nearly twenty-seven thousand dollars last year to have a Feng Shui consultant flown in from China to make sure that the energy flow of the main lobby was unobstructed. I tend to think that huge concrete rings in concentric stacks might disrupt that, _just_ a little,” Pepper pointed out with a hint of exasperation. He could hear her walking towards the coffee table, and when her steps stopped, Tony took one long swallow of his brandy. He turned and looked over to where Pepper stood examining the box, and her long, elegant profile was enough to make his heart thump.

She wore a green wool suit with an opera scarf of light gold, flecked through with metallic glints, and her shoes were gold leather, three inches at the heel. Tony loved the way she’d left her hair down for the auction; it was smooth and gleaming in the fading light. Pepper looked up from the return address label, and her expression was a cross between consternation and embarrassment; hastily she tried to set the package back down, but dropped it instead, uncharacteristically clumsy for the moment.

Tony laughed softly. He stepped down from the bar, drink still in hand and scooped the Fed Ex box up from the marble floor. “Nervous, Potts?”

“I’m sorry,” came her quiet apology. “I hope I didn’t break anything.”

Tony handed her his brandy, motioned for her to sit, and fished out his micro laser off his keychain. “So let’s fly the consultant out again and show him the Judd piece; let _him_ figure out the prosperity flow feng and how to work around it.”

“Tony—“ Pepper began, sitting reluctantly on the very edge of the sofa, eyeing the package warily, “That’s not cost-effective, and I’m sure you’d rather open that in private. I should _go.”_

“You’re not curious?” he sat on the other sofa and studied her over the edge of the box at her. 

Pepper seemingly didn’t know where to look; she glanced away, towards the fireplace. “I’m not paid to be curious,” she replied finally, trying to smile a little. 

Tony flicked the laser on and deftly sliced through the tape on one end of the box. “True, but then again, I have hardly any secrets from _you_ , Ms. Potts.” 

It came out in a quiet tone, honest above all else, and Pepper ducked her head. Tony focused on the box, since it was easier than looking at her for the moment. He tipped it, and an attaché, similar to the one locked away behind the fireplace, slid out. 

Tony touched it lightly. “Ian’s . . . case. Haven’t seen this in . . . _years_." 

Memories came back at the sight of the rugged case, flashing through Tony’s mind in a quick strobe of flashback. 

_Ian in the college lab late at night, lanky and smiling, holding a length of cotton rope, tying a beautifully intricate knot with it. “I know **exactly** what I am, Tony. That makes everything else easy.”_

_Watching Ian Play for the first time; feeling hungry and achy at the sight of the blindfolded girl moaning on the dining room table, puddles of white wax rolling down her bare stomach and breasts—_

_Later, feeling the wax himself, flinching in hot trembly anticipation, hands bound tightly, skin alive and waiting. Ian’s voice with his lilt, gentle and commanding. “You can take **more,** Antonio. I know you can take **so** much more, boyo.”_

_The gentle directions, the encouragement a few years after that. “You’ll know our kind by what they **do** over what they say, Tony. An . . . intensity to them you don’t see in most people. Or a willingness to please.”_

_So many nights tutored through the rough and the sweet until his senses reeled, and his heart pounded hard. “You’re damned good, Antonio, oh yes. Lucky is the woman under **your** hands.”_

_And finally, painfully, the freshest memory: “She’s perfect for you, boyo, yet you keep holding back. Make your move like I did, or you’ll end up alone all your life.” The warm smile; Ian’s knowing grin. “Pepper’s our kind. Poor thing just hasn’t **realized** it yet.”_

Tony thumbed the latches, and the soft snap of them made him pause. He glanced over at Pepper, who had her fingers interlaced in her lap, tension in her elegant shoulders. “You probably have an idea of what’s in here, don’t you?” 

Pepper looked as if she didn’t want to answer, but he waited quietly, and she finally swallowed. “Um, yes. Given what you’ve said about Na—Mrs. O’Hara. I think so.” 

Tony nodded. He wanted to take another sip of the brandy, but held off, and lightly ran a finger over the top of the case. He noted Pepper’s sidelong glance watching his finger. “Let’s have a look then.” 

Before his courage could fail him, Tony lifted the lid by the corners of the case, letting the light in on the contents. 

Grey foam cushioning with carefully cut out panels that held so many different items. Some glittered. Most didn’t. 

Tony passed a hand over layout and whistled. “You can always tell the degree of an artist’s commitment by the quality of his tools—something I’m sure you know, given my workshop downstairs. Ah Ian,” Tony sighed, pulling out a glittering instrument. It looked like a pizza cutter, but the wheel had long thin spikes that caught the light. “Platinum—no plebian stainless steel for Doctor O’Hara, nope.” 

“W-what _is_ that?” Pepper asked, her gaze shot through with alarm. Tony held it in one hand and flicked the wheel with the other, making flashes slide along the ceiling. 

“A Wartenburg Pinwheel. Officially, it’s used to test neurological responses. Unofficially it’s quite the little agent of erotic provocation. The lightest roll of it over the ribs, or along the underside of soft, exposed breasts . . .” He trailed off and slowly tucked it back into the case. Tony reached into another cushioned compartment and pulled out a slender leather ring with imbedded rolling beads. It looked like a bracelet although smaller. Tony hummed with amusement as he undid the little latch that unlocked it. 

“That’s too small for a wrist—” Pepper ventured, then blushed hot and pink as a realization hit her. “Oh.” 

“Twisting cock ring—with a little lube and a flexible grip, this can drive a man insane,” he murmured in a low voice. “Someone _else’s_ grip that is.” Tony set it back and pulled the grey foam up, slipping a hand under it. Out came a sleek, long paddle of pale gold lacquered wood, gleaming and smooth. Carved on the other side was a stylized thorny rose and the scrolled motto: _ferite di amore._

“Love hurts,” Tony translated for her, touching the leather braided grip of the paddle, remembering the heft of it. Pepper made a little wordless noise, and he risked a glance at her. Her attention was on the paddle though, and it wasn’t the sweet flush along her cheekbones made him blink; it was the glitter in her eyes. 

“Not necessarily,” she murmured in a whisper so low he almost missed it. Tony gripped the handle tightly for a second, a wildness coursing through him in a quick, relieved pulse. Pepper’s tone held no judgment; no condemnation or revulsion. She looked a little surprised, but certainly not frightened, and Tony dropped his gaze, shifting a little on the sofa. 

“Very true. Not everyone sees it that way though.” 

“Spanking is different. It’s almost . . . _mainstream_ now,” Pepper ventured in the same little voice. “It’s not the same as some of the . . . _other_ things represented in that box, Tony.” 

“It’s a gateway kink,” he teased. “Potentially the lead into a lifestyle that can get much more . . . complicated. Although . . .” Tony continued slowly, “I was very _good_ at it. One of my . . . fortes.” 

Pepper sighed; he shot her a quick surprised glance since the sound had held a hint of regret. Tony wondered if he’d imagined it, but when he noticed her gaze was still on the paddle, he handed it to her. She hesitated, then took it from him gingerly, setting it down on the coffee table. Tony turned his attention back to the case, but out of the corner of his eye, he noted how Pepper’s hands twisted around each other in her lap. 

“Relax, Potts—nothing here is going to bite. And considering your last few comments, I’m going to assume you’ve been spanked once or twice before.” 

She said nothing, but a brief, quick curl of one corner of her mouth left him feeling a hard pang of jealousy; whoever had had the pleasure of paddling Ms. Potts was one lucky bastard, Tony inwardly growled to himself. 

He reached back into the case and tugged out a tiny pair of gold thumb cuffs and spun them on his index finger. “Another Ian touch—subtlety in bondage. He was never one for the overt leather and chain displays.” 

“So I’m realizing,” Pepper replied thoughtfully. “I never . . . suspected.” 

This made Tony laugh; his first since the auction earlier that evening, when she had been constantly tugging at his sleeve in a despairing attempt to stop him from over-bidding. “Ian was very _good_ at keeping a low profile. If he hadn’t trusted me all those years ago back at MIT, I would have never known it about him either. He was a good mentor.” 

“He _taught_ you.” It wasn’t a question; Pepper was looking at him now with shy interest, more relaxed than she’d been previously. Tony reached for his brandy and paused, gesturing wordlessly if she wanted one. Pepper nodded, and he rose, heading for the bar, his own glass in hand. 

Over the clink of the bottle’s lip against the rim, Tony spoke. “Yeah. Ian was my tutor for biomechatronics during the day . . . and my Scene mentor at night. Claims he saw a lot of potential in me for _both_ fields.” 

He carried the two snifters back and handed one to Pepper, who took it and breathed in the bouquet for a moment before sipping it. Tony watched her swallow; enjoyed the vision of that long beautiful throat in the dim lighting. “I learned . . . a lot.” 

“I bet,” Pepper replied, clearly feeling the burn of the Slivovitz. 

“You’re taking this pretty calmly, Potts.” 

“Tony—“ she smiled at him with gentleness. “You have a miniature arc reactor in your chest. You built an armored flying suit and you fight terrorists and warmongers. I’m sort of over being surprised at _anything_ regarding you.” 

He laughed again, the relief bubbling up this time, genuine and good because until this very moment, Tony hadn’t realized how much he cared about the way Pepper was going to take the news about his . . . tendencies. 

She took another sip of the brandy, and moved to touch the paddle again, with one finger. Tony noted that with a little throb, and pretended to be interested again in the case. “Yeah well, I still might throw a shock or two your way, Potts—you never know.” 

Out came a set of padded blue velvet cuffs, complete with tiny silver moon-shaped padlocks. Pepper made a little murmur, and Tony held them up so she could see them better. 

“They’re almost . . . beautiful,” she whispered in surprise. 

He nodded. “Ian is . . . damn it-- _was_ \--romantic, no matter who he was Playing with. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t be hard, or cruel sometimes, but overall to him, it was all about trust and seduction.” 

“Did he . . . seduce . . . _you_?” Pepper breathed, then looked frightened to have overstepped her bounds. Tony swallowed the last of his brandy in one gulp, eyes watering, and not just from the burn of the liquor. 

Tony sniffed hard, to clear his throat of fumes. “Sure, of _course_ he did. Not that we ever had sex all that often. Ian went both ways, but me? Not so much. I’m pret-ty hardwired to women, frankly. I’m sure you’ve noticed that once or twice.” 

“I . . . I should get going,” Pepper murmured. 

Tony sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t Play anymore, Pepper. You _know_ that, right?” 

She paused, right on the verge of rising up from the sofa, and looked at him. “I . . . Yes, I know.” 

“I can’t. I run a billion dollar company where I’m directly and indirectly responsible for the employment of thousands of people. I can’t afford to hurt them or let them down. The average citizen is more than willing to support me climbing into an armored suit and taking on terrorists. But tolerating a scandal involving a lifestyle that’s still seen as perverted? You _know_ what would happen to Stark Industries if anything like that ever got out. You know better than _I_ do what would happen, Pepper.” 

She nodded; the American public was still highly conservative when it came to CEOs, even ones as flamboyant and charismatic as Tony Stark. “I understand.” 

“Most of the time it’s not a big deal. I’ve got more than enough to keep me occupied,” Tony pointed out wearily. “Ian and Naomi used to visit just enough to keep me from going crazy.” 

“Oh.” It was the only thing Pepper could think of to say, and it seemed completely inadequate. Impulsively she reached over and laid a hand on his arm, patting it. 

Tony looked down at her long, pretty fingers. “It’s not about sex, you know.” 

“Tony—“ 

“No, I need you to _understand_ , just a little bit. It’s more of a safety valve; a way of releasing tension before . . . before I go crazy. Yes, a lot of times it . . . leads to sex. It makes sex _better_. Makes it more intimate, more raw and satisfying. But what Playing a scene is really about is trust, Pepper. I’m a billionaire; I can get all the sex I want. Trust? That’s not buyable, not at the level I need for this. _Ever._ ” 

Pepper bit her lower lip and reluctantly nodded; a deeper part of her understood Tony’s lonely position in life all too well. Having money brought unusual heartaches at times. “I get it.” 

“Sure,” Tony sighed, and carefully repacked the cuffs into the case. “Of course. Just another twist to your boss’s psyche. What the hell, I guess I’m maudlin tonight. Naomi sends me this magnificent gift of Ian’s toys and I can’t . . . I can’t even _use_ them. Nicely ironic, don’t you think?” 

“She meant well,” Pepper offered quietly. 

Tony laughed a little, his expression sweetly wry. “She’s a good little sub. Always wanting to make people happy.” 

“She could . . .” Pepper began slowly, “Still come to visit.” 

Tony glanced up, seeing the conflict in Pepper’s face and shook his head firmly. “No. She was, heart and soul, Ian’s sub. She’ll drop in now and then, but strictly as a _friend_ , Potts. We’ll never Play again.” 

His voice was firm, and held a tiny note of bleakness in it that reached deep into Pepper, making her ache for him in a way she never thought she could. Her fingers tightened on his arm, and gently Tony dropped his other hand on hers, patting it gently. 

Neither of them said anything for a while as they sat together on the sofa for a long time. 

Finally Pepper stirred, her gaze flickering back to the paddle on the coffee table. “I’m sorry, Tony. I may not understand everything about what you’ve said tonight, but I wish I could help.” 

Tony had his eyes closed again. “Is that an offer to let me spank you?” 

He said it lightly; another throwaway tease to make her blush, but Pepper quivered for a second, her gaze darting to the beautiful little paddle, and her silence was enough to make him open his eyes. “Potts, that was a _joke._ ” 

She kept her gaze averted from him, her profile long and beautiful. “I know,” Pepper whispered, and paused. “But . . . I . . . could.” 

Tony held his breath, hearing his pulse hammer in quickening thumps in his ears. Forcing himself to calm down, he waited to speak until he was sure his voice could carry low and deliberate amusement in it. “That’s the Slivovitz talking now. It’s been a _long_ night Pepper, and I know you’re incredibly tender-hearted, but that’s not an offer I can consider seriously.” 

The air in the room seemed heavy now, full of unsaid things and odd little wavers of light and dark. 

Pepper’s skin tingled, and she gave a shiver, crossing her arms to rub the opposite shoulders as she spoke, her words tumbling out. “I’m not afraid, Tony. Not of being . . . spanked. I just don’t want to see you going back to your old way of living, and losing everything good you’ve become in the last year because you’re . . . alone. Not when I can _help_.” 

Tony dropped his head, not able to look her in the eye. He flexed his shoulders, and spoke, his voice directed more to the floor than to the woman sitting next to him. “I could love you for that _alone_ , my sweet, sweet, Pepper.” 

She reached over and picked up the paddle, long fingers wrapping around the leather braided handle to grip the implement. “It’s not heavy,” Pepper murmured in surprise. 

Tony did look up then, and nodded. “But well-balanced. A custom job.” He smiled at some unshared memory. “I’ve been on _both_ ends, so I know what it’s capable of delivering.” 

Pepper blinked at him, her mouth dropping open a tiny bit; he fluttered his eyelashes at her with exaggerated coyness. “Didn’t I promise you a shock or two?” 

She found her voice, and the little curl along the corner of her mouth was back. “I’m not shocked . . . I think it’s a very—very pleasant image, given all the times I’ve considered taking a bit of revenge on you _myself_ , Mr. Stark.” 

Tony laughed. 

With the mood lighter now, he slowly stood up and stretched a little, then turned to Pepper, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. Her fingers were cool in his, her grip soft. “You’re honest to a fault, Ms. Potts; one of your better qualities. I think it’s time to call it a night, and we’ll get back to figuring what to do with the Judd sculptures in the morning, okay?” 

“All right,” Pepper agreed, her smile slightly relieved. “We have the trip out to Vail tomorrow too. But Tony—” she continued, her voice dropping. “I . . . I _do_ want you to consider my offer.” Pepper took the paddle she still held and then his hand, wrapping his fingers around the handle. “I don’t understand everything, but _this_ , I can do.” 

She tried to smile calmly and not reveal the racing thrum of her pulse, the dryness of her mouth. Tony took the paddle, looking down at her fingers around his, and when he lifted his gaze again, Pepper noted how very rich the brown of his eyes was. “I’m serious, Tony.” 

He swallowed; she noticed it with a sense of amusement. “Don’t keep offering, Pepper. I’m half-way tempted as it is.” 

“Sleep on it,” she murmured. “But the offer stands. Goodnight, Mr. Stark.” 

Long after Pepper had gone, and the mansion was dark and quiet, Tony roamed, moving restlessly from room one to another, letting his steps wander as his thoughts and desires tormented him until shortly before dawn. 

*** *** *** 

Vail was a working vacation. Tony managed to ski and schmooze at the same time; Rhodey came out for a few days as well, and the two of them fell into their old competitive ways up on the slopes for a while. Pepper was glad to see Tony a bit more relaxed. She stayed in back at the Mountain Lodge penthouse suite most of the time, working on her laptop and making sure that the various dinners and meetings ran smoothly. In the afternoons she went shopping and treated herself to the joys of the spa. 

But new Pierre Montaillier shoes and pedicures couldn’t quite keep her mind off the offer she’d made to Tony. The fact that he hadn’t said a word more about it both relieved and irked Pepper. She tried to keep her focus on work, but at odd moments of the day: drinking peppermint tea, or laying out Tony’s evening wardrobe, the memory would rise up, and Pepper would feel her pulse jump. 

“I’m going to assume you’ve been spanked once or twice before.” 

Oh yes, Pepper nodded to herself. 

She had. 

_1997\. Rome. Glorious, beautiful Rome. Pepper had loved the cathedrals, the museums, the history that steeped the very hills and walls of the city._

__

__

And Enzo. 

Ah! Enzo of the dark curls and scent of sandalwood. Handsome, patient, kind. He was her guide during her internship, and her lover in the afternoons, an extraordinary teacher on all levels. 

“You are the flame that I, a poor moth am drawn to, ‘Ginia, Bella,” he teased her. “So beautiful, so, so appassionato!” 

And she was. Enzo taught her more about her own body than she’d known all her life; about her ticklish places and erotic ones, about which kisses made her shiver, and what made her cry out in pleasure. In gratitude, she made it a point to return the favor, and took to heart the beauty of a man’s passions. 

She’d learned a lot in Rome, oh yes. 

.And so when Enzo gently introduced her to some darkly erotic play, she went willingly along, eager to learn. 

Pinches. Bites. Scratches. And-- 

“Spanking—sculacciare—this can be so very nice, Bella mia. The anticipation, the sting—” he purred in her little shell ear. “A quick pain that burns into pleasure.” 

He was right. The mere memory of being over his lap; of feeling the hard snap of his hand, or the wooden spoon across her ass still made her nipples harden even now. He knew how to draw out the moment between smacks, and how to strike and send an uncontrollable quiver between her legs and make her come even as the tears ran down her face and dripped off her chin. 

Pepper sighed. She’d left Rome, and Enzo, who had kissed her goodbye at the airport before reporting back to Redemptoris Mater Seminary and his studies. She knew he was now fully ordained, a dedicated priest with his own church somewhere in Sardinia. 

_“I will be a good priest, ‘Ginia, because I will know the heart of human love, even if it is never to be mine again after I am consecrated to God. For this I thank you and Him, Bella mia.”_

She hadn’t had many lovers since then; certainly none who evoked enough trust to share the darker delights she’d learned in Rome. 

But now . . . the thought of Mr. Stark; of Tony, beautiful and melancholy in his need . . . 

Pepper gave another, more frustrated sigh. It seemed unfair that she’d never realized the bare truth; that _part_ of what had attracted her to him all this time had been the unrealized needs between them. 

_I need to be needed. Even if it’s by a egotistical, brilliant, stubborn idiot._

What she also needed, Pepper realized, was a catalyst; a way to make her offer the only logical choice. She drew in a quick breath, realizing the simplicity of her conclusion. 

_He needs a reason._

Pepper smiled. 

*** *** *** 

They should have returned home from Vail refreshed and energized; normally Tony came away from the annual Colorado trek with extra drive, but not this year. He was pale and preoccupied; caught up between Avenger politics and delays on the manufacturing sector of Stark Industries. Pepper worked to keep things on an even keel, but it wasn’t easy for her either. Consequently, on the first Monday after their return, both she and Tony were short-tempered and impatient, coming close to snapping at each other several times. 

Matters worsened after lunch, which Tony skipped in favor of arguing with the steel suppliers from China. The late session with R &D ate up the rest of the evening, and by the time he and Pepper were in the limo heading back to the mansion just after ten thirty at night, they were _barely_ speaking. Happy wisely said nothing, dropping them off and heading out again with a quick sense of self-preservation. 

Tony stormed up the steps, snapping out quick orders. “Jarvis, I want all my calls filtered; anything from China is to be put through immediately.” 

“Very good. Your massage has been cancelled as per your instructions.” 

He scowled. “I didn’t cancel anything; I didn’t even know I was scheduled for one, though it sounds like a damned good _idea._ Potts?” 

Pepper followed him up, her concentration on her BlackBerry, her pulse speeding up a bit. She’d deliberately set up the appointment and cancelled it, relaying the info to Jarvis. As she reached the living room, Tony had already peeled off his jacket and was working his fingers into the knot of his tie, still pacing angrily as he did so. “Damn it, I could have _used_ a massage tonight. Set one up.” 

“Mr. Stark, I can’t,” Pepper murmured, her tone firm. “It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night.” 

He looked at her, brows drawing together cynically as he threw his tie across the back of the sofa. “I’m a fucking _billionaire,_ Potts. I can get anything I want at any _hour_ I want.” 

She swallowed and looked Tony in the eye. “Yes, most of the time that’s true, but not _this_ one. If I call and set something up, it’s going to take at _least_ an hour for the masseuse to show up, and by then you’ll be asleep or drunk.” 

Tony stared at her, his mouth thinning out into a hard line. He took a step towards her, and his eyes glittered. “Your _job_ Ms. Potts, is to give me anything I want, without the advice. If that’s too _difficult_ for you, let me know and I’ll be glad to promote someone else to the position who can handle the job.” 

Pepper folded her arms and waited a beat before speaking with soft intensity. “Yes, you could have used a massage tonight. I screwed up. When I realized you were going to be with R &D for another hour I went ahead and cancelled. Clearly I made a mistake; a _big_ one--” 

“Yes,” Tony agreed, gritting his teeth a bit. He was stalking past her towards the bar when her next words caught him by surprise. 

“—and I deserve to be _spanked_ for it.” 

He spun, gracefully, startled. Pepper was looking at him with absolutely no amusement on her face, arms still crossed. Tony’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t quite make himself say anything for a second. 

Pepper held his gaze, and although he noted a flaring of her elegant nostrils, she was perfectly still. 

Tony managed to find his voice. “You _do._ ” 

He meant it as a question, but somehow it came out with complete conviction, and the sound of his words galvanized them both. 

For a long pulse beat they stood just on the inside of each other’s auras, feeling the surge of intimate desire brushing against them both. Pepper shifted her gaze to the floor, but otherwise didn’t move, and Tony stepped closer to her, moving into her personal space, his hot breath stirring her bangs. “Follow me. _Now._ ” 

She did, her steps slightly wobbly, but a giddiness welling up inside her stomach. It was like standing on the top edge of a rollercoaster’s drop; that moment of commitment to the rush about to happen. Pepper heard her shoes on the stone floor, lightly tapping. 

Tony moved to the fireplace, and twisted the knob of the tool stand; there was a click, and a small door opened on the side of the fireplace. It was a cunning little wall safe that Pepper hadn’t even known was there. 

He reached in and pulled out the paddle. 

In the low light it was as beautiful as before, the satiny wood gleaming. Tony held it lightly; easily. He took a deep breath and turned to Pepper, noting again the flush along her cheekbones and the glitter in her eyes. In that moment, he felt a hot, hard rush of tenderness well up inside him, and he nearly smiled before he caught himself. 

Keeping his voice level, he lifted his head, boring into her with his gaze as he spoke, his voice huskier than usual. “Miss Potts, are you ready to be disciplined?” 

Pepper’s eyelashes fluttered a bit, and she gave a deliberate nod, not trusting herself to speak. Her senses were becoming hyper acute now; her skin going hot and cold. She felt as if the moment were magnified all around her. 

Tony drank her in for the moment, simply savoring her beautiful, perfect tension. Then he moved slowly to the large boulder on the right side of the fireplace and spoke again, musingly. “Very well. Options . . . certainly I could simply make you place your pretty hands here on the stone and bend over, knees straight of course . . . that would be a _lovely_ sight, and well worth paddling. But it lacks the _personal_ touch . . . and I do want this to be something you’ll _remember,_ Miss Potts.” 

“Yes, Mr. S,” she replied, her voice a whisper. Tony reached out with the paddle and lightly lifted her chin with the end of it, bringing her gaze back up to meet his. 

“I think,” he murmured slowly, “I’d rather have you over my _lap_ , Miss Potts. That would be much more effective in delivering the punishment you so richly deserve. Don’t you agree?” 

Pepper tried not to gasp; she squirmed ever so slightly, the tension ratcheting up another degree as she swallowed hard. Realizing Tony was waiting for a reply; some agreement to his suggestion, she nodded. 

“All right. You need to bare your bottom, Miss Potts, and quickly, since you know I’m not a patient man right now,” Tony muttered thickly. He dropped himself onto the boulder with careless grace, still toying with the paddle. 

Pepper closed her eyes. Her breathing was still quick, but a lovely lassitude now flowed in her; the awareness mingled with a sense of relief as well. Carefully she reached for the hem of her skirt, sliding her hands up under it from behind, and let her fingers tug on her panties. 

They slid down, over her thigh-high stockings, and dropped like a tiny silk cloud at her feet, pearly in the low light. Tony bit back a little moan, but barely; the sound carried in the space between them. 

“So pretty, and so small,” he marveled. “Barely enough to cover _anything_ , Miss Potts.” 

Pepper preened for a moment, pink at the compliment. 

“Step out of them and come here.” 

Trembling, she did, moving forward slowly, showcasing her legs. Tony watched her, feeling a fierce delight in her gentle acquiescence. The sight of her small panties on the stone floor delighted him as well, and he dimly decided to keep them; a prize of sorts. 

When Pepper was within a few steps of him, Tony set the paddle down and smiled. It was his slow, gentle smile, and didn’t quite match the heat in his dark eyes. “Your scent is delicious, Miss Potts. Are you afraid yet?”

“Y-yes,” she whispered, dry-mouthed. It wasn’t fear precisely; she knew what to expect in terms of pain, but the overwhelming realization that it was Tony delivering it . . . 

“Give me your hand, Miss Potts,” Tony ordered, his voice gentle. Pepper extended her hand, and he took it, his warm fingers wrapping around hers. He began to reel her down towards him, guiding her across his thighs with infinite slowness. Pepper let herself be draped against his legs, one of her own hands braced against the cool rock of the boulder, the other gripping his knee. The contrast of the chill and heat left her dizzy. 

Tony felt Pepper’s slight weight rest on him, and bit back a groan. The sweet pressure combined with Pepper’s perfume and pheromones was sending him into the zone, and he fought the hunger of his body, letting it absorb all the sensory delights of the moment. One hand skimmed down her long back, feeling each knob of her spine on the slow trip, and the other stroked her pretty hair. 

“Damn it, you’re beautiful, Miss Potts. Even at your most defiant, you still move me,” he whispered to her. On his lap, she quivered. 

It would be too easy to keep her lying there, and Tony knew that was unfair, so carefully, he tugged the hem of Pepper’s skirt up, making the fabric slide higher to reveal the long pale backs of her thighs, and the rounded, taut curves of her bare ass. He noted with a throb of pleasure how muscled and toned they were; how utterly tempting. 

Pepper hung on the edge, caught between humiliation and bliss; a remembered sensation given added urgency now that Tony’s hand slid across her ass. His touch was so gentle, and slow; the mark of experience, and she felt herself growing damp. 

Her breathing came shallowly, and Pepper was glad her long hair hung down, obscuring her face as she waited, poised across his thighs. 

Please— 

“Seven,” Tony announced softly, his tone a seductive croon, “because you are a B-A-D-G-I-R-L and that’s precisely seven letters long, Miss Potts. You’re certainly going to _feel_ it.” 

“Y-y-yessir,” Pepper moaned, her fingers clenching the uneven surface of the boulder. Tony shifted a little, trying to keep her steady on his lap without rubbing his aching cock too much; this was about the Scene and not the sex. 

The pair of them made a lovely reflection in the dark glass of the window, he noted. “No paddle. I think my hand will sufficiently sting.” 

Under him, Pepper tensed, and Tony did too, in reaction. Moving quickly, he cocked his hand back and brought it down, hard, making swift, stinging contact with the sweet mounds of her ass. The crack of it was loud, and carried in the living room; Pepper gave a yelp, and flexed in quick response. 

“B,” Tony murmured in a soft, happy voice. The flare of heat in his hand felt good; right. He looked down at the red imprint of his hand along Pepper’s satiny cheeks and fought a shudder of his own. He braced his free arm along the small of her back to steady her. 

Lightly came the second smack. “A.” 

The scent of her wound through his senses; that hot vanilla. He’d smelled it on her whenever Pepper was afraid, but at the moment it held the added spice of citrus; her fierce arousal. The combination was heady, and Tony wondered if he was going to make it through the rest of the spanking. 

Pepper tightened her grip on the cool stone, her entire body clenching in a tight squeeze of humiliated delight as she let herself sink into the sensations coursing through her. Heat, pain, roughness, smoothness, and pulsing in a demanding beat under it all, desire singing in her veins. 

Tony’s hand stung against her already sensitive skin again and again; she whimpered, feeling the renewed burn. The warmth seeped deeper into the muscle, driven in by his repeated blows. Pepper wriggled, grinding herself along his thighs, losing focus on everything but the heat and pressure building on both sides of her body. Already her nipples were tight and aching, and her stomach quivered against Tony’s lap when his blow for the letter ‘I’ landed hard just above the tops of her thighs. 

_OhGggggodI’m . . ._ she thought in a quick joyous flash, and then her body shuddered as Pepper surrendered to the roiling pleasure flaring between her thighs, her orgasm radiating hot and hard through her slender frame. The suddenness sucked the breath from her, and Pepper gasped, her fingers scrabbling against the stone. 

She never felt the last two smacks, but when Tony gasped, Pepper muzzily sensed pulses of wet heat seeping against her skirt, and his hands, burning and strong slipping around her, pulling her— 

They tumbled loosely to the floor together, dropping in a heap against the cool stone, neither one of them moving once they landed. For a long time both Tony and Pepper lay sprawled, unable to do much more than let their breathing slow down. 

Finally, after a long, quiet while, Tony rolled over to face her, his gaze wide and unflinching. He reached out a hand--the hand, and touched her shoulder. “Pep? Pepper?” came his hoarse whisper. 

She lifted her cheek from the coolness of the floor, hair cascading along her shoulder as she gazed back at him. “Th-thank you, sir.” 

It wasn’t what she meant to say, but something rich and comforting in her tone made Tony scrabble to her, and pull Pepper up into his arms, cradling her against his shoulder as he buried his face in her hair. 

Tony rocked her in his arms, murmuring quiet, wordless sounds that told her everything she needed to know. Pepper held him just as close, sighing gently every now and then. 

*** *** *** 

They didn’t speak for a long time. Tony picked her up and carried her to the master bathroom, drawing water in the tub and adding cupfuls of spa minerals into it. When it was ready he gently undressed her and then himself, settling them both into the foamy water. 

He washed Pepper with slow, sensual diligence, starting at her shoulders and moving down each limb and around her torso, ending up at her red, pretty cheeks, each of which he kissed lovingly. She watched him, her eyes never leaving Tony’s every gentle move, and when the water cooled, he lifted her out of it, and wrapped her in a thick, heated towel. 

“You don’t have to _do_ this,” Pepper murmured quietly. 

He picked her up again, his expression dark and intense as his slow steps carried them to the bedroom. “I _need_ to do this,” Tony told her. “Exactly this. _Let_ me do this.” 

Part of her _did_ understand; that need to be needed was an imperative that Pepper was all too familiar with, although she’d never before realized her boss had it within himself as well. 

He set her down on the bed and helped her under the covers, tucking her in sweetly and safely. Pepper felt his kiss at her hairline, and it was only when Tony moved away that she realized he was leaving. 

She sat up. “No, stay. _Please._ ” 

Tony turned, half in and half out of the shadows, his arc reactor glowing softly. “Tell me why.” 

Pepper gaze at his face, melancholy and still in the dim lighting. “Stay . . . because I _need_ you, Tony.” 

From one heartbeat to the next, nothing moved. 

A gentle sigh escaped him, and the slow sloughing of tension from his shoulders made her eyes prickle. Tony stepped back to her, touching for the light control panel. The room went dark, and Pepper reached for him, pulling Tony’s body to hers, undoing the towel around his waist. He slid into bed, warm and damp; shivering from something other than the chill of the sheets. 

Pepper brushed her cheek against his, moving slowly and carefully; trying hard not to startle him. With care, she rolled Tony on his back and draped herself along his side, holding him as they both relaxed by degrees. 

Tony wasn’t sure what time it was, or how much of it had passed; the dreamy unreality of the moment had no defining edges. All he knew was that he was at peace, and that Pepper had given him that peace. Her hands were on him, her leg resting over his, and Tony understood that _she_ was the one anchoring him down. <

For the first time in years, soul-deep relaxation unlocked all the tension within him. Tony turned his head, hungry for the sight of her, and moved his lips. “Pepper---” 

“Yes,” she told him in a soft whisper. “I know.” 

And finally, he smiled. 

*** *** *** 

Pepper woke just before dawn, rising up through layers of sleep, amazingly warm and relaxed. The heat of Tony’s body as he spooned around hers held comfort, and she let herself drift, grateful for the snug fit of the two of them together. 

By degrees, she became aware that Tony was awake as well; the shift in his breathing, and the gentle slide of his arm over her hip made Pepper rub back against him, lightly at first, and then more deliberately. She felt Tony groan against the back of her neck, and the blatant push of his shaft against her ass made her smirk. 

She shifted, rolling over to face him, and the smile he gave her held a hint of wonder to it. Pepper tipped her face and let her lips brush his gently. 

“It’s time. I’m going to make love to you,” she breathed, not so much asking as telling, and his mouth opened under hers in a welcoming kiss. 

“Please,” Tony sighed, pulling her over his body with easy strength, settling Pepper in a straddle over his hips. 

Slowly, Pepper impaled herself on his cock, drawing out the pleasure in the quiet warmth between them. Her hair hung down around her face, and she moaned sweetly as she moved over Tony, matching his quickening thrusts in an urgent rhythm, her palms on either side of the arc reactor for leverage. 

Higher, harder, the intensity of their naked bodies working hungrily together was too good to draw out, and Pepper clenched around him, her delighted cry echoing in the room in a crescendo of erotic bliss. She shuddered, arching tightly, and Tony gave a low, ecstatic howl of his own, his hips driving upward, lifting them both off the mattress in a series of hard climactic thrusts. 

They folded together, clinging to each other, kissing an a joyous frenzy for a moment before settling together in peace, still joined as the predawn light began to glow through the windows. 

End 


End file.
